Continuing with this quasi tradition I made up in my head... here's this morning's poem:

No title
By: Keith Gurgick!!

I am the universal grandfather that whispers stories into the ears of my small grandchildren, in front of radioactive fireplaces. I told a story one day to a boy with ears as big as rabbit's. I told him about a man with a great heart, which he had taken from the living chest of a woman he loved. He kept it with him always: when he went to war; when he returned with a mind full of napalm and burning skin; when he released warm golden fire on his home in an alley. On Christmas Eve, and the verge of death, he ate the heart that he had protected for years. His arms and legs went numb and fell off; his throat was but a phantom limb. His entire body imploded into one throbbing living, five-inch organ, which fell to the ground in his home, the alley. The man lived forever here, in his four-chamber home.

After he heard this story, the boy leapt from my lap and ran to take the hearts of all he loved. He squatted in an alley and waited for death.